


Just Smile, and Let Me Go

by stharridan



Category: Saiyuki: Journey West (Video Game)
Genre: Community: cotton_candy_bingo, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 07:39:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stharridan/pseuds/stharridan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years after the end of their journey, Sanzo and Hakkai reflect on the past over a bowl of Hakkai's famous grass jelly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Smile, and Let Me Go

Sanzo leans against the doorframe, watching as Hakkai tries to show his little apprentices the secret behind his famous grass jelly. She can see that he’s trying hard not to snatch it from the platter for himself. Often he has to wipe his mouth with a sleeve, coming away embarrassed, but Sanzo has to give him some credit; his self-control has improved much since she first met him.

But then again, it’s been four years. Four years, nine months and thirty-three days, if she has counted it right, since she left her home for that foreign land to the west. She remembers returning a changed person, roughly a year later, seeing matters through different eyes. The quest to India took a lot out of her, of her friends as well, and though she was relieved for it to be over, she couldn’t ignore the feeling of loss when she watched as, one by one, her companions left her.

Master Gojo was the first to leave. Even she couldn’t stop him from stepping out that door. And then it was Lady Kikka and her grandfather, and Ryorin, and finally Goku, who had expressed desire to visit his homeland to the east.

Only Hakkai remains as a cook in the Golden Temple. Sanzo recalls the relief that washed over her when he’d taken her out into the courtyard, alone, to ask her whether he could stay. He should have known better, Sanzo reflects as the apprentices rush out with the jelly on a platter between them.

“Hey, Sanzo.” Hakkai, panting just the slightest, hands her a bowl of jelly. “Managed to save some for the both of us. Those kids sure know good food when they see it.”

Sanzo laughs and leads him outside, and they sit on the steps by the open kitchen door. “I bet you can feed them the same thing every day and they’ll never get fed up.”

Hakkai feigns a pained look. “It’s not actually the _same_ thing every day. I mean, I always try to improve the flavour, or maybe alter it some, so it doesn’t taste the same all the time.”

“Well, then you’re doing a great job at it. Remember what Ryorin said? You can be the greatest chef in all of China.”

“That would be great, wouldn’t it?” Hakkai tips his head back, great ears flopping against his flour-dusted brown cap. “Ryorin always asked me to make her Mongolian beef, said it was the best she’d ever had. And Lady Kikka loved the rice, she and Master Genshi. I don’t know what Goku liked – all he ever did was laugh and eat everything I had to offer.” Hakkai chuckles and Sanzo can’t help but smile. “Master Gojo’s about the same as Goku. He never really said any-”

“Grass jelly.” Sanzo looks into her bowl, at the little cubes of translucent black drenched in sugar syrup. “He liked your grass jelly best.” And she slurps it all down, swallowing the cubes whole, gulping up the syrup till nothing is left.

“Hey, whoa, you shouldn’t do that.” Hakkai is staring at her through wide eyes. “You’ll choke if you’re not careful.”

Sanzo laughs, wipes her mouth with a sleeve. “It’s good, Hakkai. You’re really an amazing chef, you know. Better than you think you are.” The sugary aftertaste seeping into her tongue is more a bane than a source of comfort, reminding her so much of that sweet, tender night four years ago. She places the bowl down, rests her chin in her hands, trying to rid her memory of rivers and lakes and blue, blue eyes.

“You miss Master Gojo, don’t you?” Hakkai says, but before she can even reply, he wraps a big meaty arm around her shoulders and brings her close, laughing. “Don’t you worry, he’ll be back someday. He said so himself, didn’t he? Master Gojo doesn’t strike me as someone who’d break a promise.” He gives her hair a good-natured tousle. “Who knows, maybe he’s on his way back right now.”

The notion, however slim its chances, makes her smile. “Yeah, maybe.” She doesn’t voice her concern over the fact that she hasn’t received a single message from him. Pigeons have arrived from Ryorin and Lady Kikka over the years, and Hakkai has always been eager to reply to them, writing long, long letters to the point where he needs Sanzo’s smaller hand in order to reduce the bird’s burden. There hasn’t been any correspondence from Goku either, but Sanzo guesses that it’s to be expected – maybe Gojo, like Goku, just isn’t fond of letters.

“If… _when_ Master Gojo comes back,” Sanzo looks up at Hakkai, her faithful companion, the greatest chef in the world, “be sure to make the best jelly you’ve ever made. And the best Mongolian beef for Ryorin, the best pot of rice for Lady Kikka, and we’ll have a feast in the great hall where Goku can eat as much as he wants.”

Hakkai grins and gives her a tight squeeze. “Leave it to me!”

And Sanzo hugs him. His belly is so big that her hands can’t touch behind his back, so she clutches his robes instead. He smells of spice and garlic and herbs, while Gojo smelled of grass cut fresh and mint. When she pulls back, Hakkai’s cheeks are red with embarrassment.

“When I see Master Gojo,” he says, holding up his hands, “I’ll pretend that never happened.” And he bursts out laughing, shoulders shaking with mirth. Sanzo smiles and elbows him in the side, taking the bowl of jelly from his lap before it falls to pieces.

Sanzo remembers Gojo’s words to her that day, as they stood before the great statue of Buddha, when he’d came to her and told her that he was leaving. When she’d lowered her head, trying hard to cope with the sudden pricking behind her eyes, he had reached out and brushed her hand with his fingertips. It was just the slightest of gestures within that revered hall, but to Sanzo it meant the world. She remembers his words well.

_Just smile, and let me go._

And she had done just that. Raised her head, smiled, watched as he walked out that door and out of her life.

And now, even after three years, seven months and sixty-eight days, she still keeps her head raised, a smile on her lips, and she waits.


End file.
